


A Night To Remember

by LondonGypsy



Category: Benedict Cumberbatch Fandom, British Actor RPF
Genre: F/M, Smut, and quite non-verbal also, dancing Benedict is sexy, one night stand'ish, post oscar sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-10
Updated: 2014-03-10
Packaged: 2018-01-15 05:06:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1292464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LondonGypsy/pseuds/LondonGypsy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A slightly drunk, non-verbal Benedict is having some fun with Mia at an Oscar after party.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Night To Remember

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little drabble, inspired by post Oscar prettiness and B's need to dance.  
> Thanks to calliope79 (and some late night chats) who I blame for this one ;-p  
> And as always Barawen for the superquick Britpick/Beta.

He's drunk. Not only tipsy but properly drunk. 

Not entirely wasted, no, he would never let it get that far. 

Just enough to feel the buzz and not care about the people looking at him. 

Staring even. 

The dance floor is quite empty, only a few people are still dancing; it's late - or early, depending on how you look at it. 

The main stars have left already but there are still enough people in the room who keep watching him, slouched in their seats, expensive dresses bunched up carelessly around them, too tired to care. 

Not him though. 

He's still hyped up, bouncing around like the bundle of energy that he is. 

Dancing like he's the only one in the world, he doesn't notice much around him, he's too lost in himself, in the music. 

He's lost tie and jacket hours ago, a bundle of fabric somewhere on a chair, abandoned and forgotten in the heat of the moment. 

The sleeves of his shirt are rolled up, showing off his muscular arms; even in the dim light the veins are standing out like cords against his pale skin. 

The first three buttons on his shirt are open, revealing the hollow of his throat, sweat glistening there like diamonds. 

He's still wearing his waistcoat, enhancing his beautiful slim body, making his waist look deliciously small, his legs endless, the tight trousers clinging to his thighs like a second skin. 

I myself have kicked off my heels, enjoying the cool air on my tortured toes. 

As much as I love award season, my feet will be very happy when it's over. 

Wiggling my toes I keep watching him shamelessly; he wouldn't notice even if I stood right beside him. 

He's utterly lost to the music, his lids half closed, swaying around the wide space of the dance-floor.

His hands with those obscenely long fingers are in constant motion, matching the rhythm of the song, snipping in sync with the drums or gliding through the air, emphasizing the harmonies. 

He's absolutely gorgeous: his skin is shimmering in the dim light, the lights bouncing off of his auburn hair in red flashes, making it seem as if he's head's surrounded by fire. 

And even though everyone can see that his movements are fueled by alcohol, he's still the most graceful man in the entire room. 

I can't take my eyes off of him. 

I shouldn't stare, it's rude, it's frowned upon, especially here and tonight but my gaze is glued to his lithe, slender body. 

One song fades into another, a slower one. 

He matches his motions, not missing a single beat. 

Suddenly his lids flutter open, hazy eyes roaming the room and finding mine.

A jolt of hot shock shoots through my body as his gaze stops on me, a small smile flickering over his full lips. 

Breathlessly I watch as he dances closer and eventually beckons me over, never once stopping the dance. 

I shake my head, embarrassment at being caught staring washes over me. 

But his smile only widens, green and blue sparks shimmering in his eyes and he's holding out a hand. 

"Dance with me," he mouths; I can't hear him over the music but his lips move slow and articulate and it's easy for me to read it. 

I shake my head again but he's close enough now that I have to lean back to keep the eye contact. 

His elegant fingers close around my wrist, gently pulling and then I stand, not recalling to make that move. 

His smile turns predatory as his fingertips settle over my rapidly hammering pulse. 

He leans closer. 

"One dance," he drawls hoarsely, his breath warm against my ear. 

Before I can answer he's pulled me against his chest. 

I gasp. 

It's like being pressed against furnace, heat is radiating from him in thick waves, enveloping me like a warm blanket. 

My hands instinctively search for a hold, fisting the fabric of his shirt to steady myself.

He chuckles deeply and the sound of it is unbelievably sexy and I press harder against him. 

A low purr escapes his throat, rippling through his limbs and resonates in my own, making me bite back a moan. 

One hand slides around my midst, pulling me even closer, not leaving much space between our bodies. 

The other one grabs my hand, guiding it around his waist, humming approvingly as I splay my fingers instinctively over his lower back.  

Even through the rather thick fabric I can feel how hot he is. 

Slowly he slides his hand up my bare arm, tracing an invisible path over my skin, making me tremble under his touch. 

He grins, his teeth blinking behind plush lips. 

His hand is still moving, further up, over my shoulder before eventually settling against my neck, fingertip curling around the loose strands of hair at the nape of my neck. 

Without another word he starts swaying again and all I can do is just follow his motions. 

His nearness is dizzying. 

I can feel strong muscles move under my hand, can smell his aftershave as he leans closer, his suddenly sharp gaze sliding appreciatively over my face. 

His grip around me tightens, pulling me impossibly closer, an unidentified noise rumbling through his chest. 

As he leans closer I have one second to see how huge his pupils are before his nose bumps against mine, his lips cover mine and his tongue slides in my mouth, taking me completely by surprise.

But it only takes a second for me to return the kiss,  just as passionately, feeling his lips curl into a grin. 

Faintly I feel his palm cradle my head, keeping me from backing away. 

As if I wanted that. 

With a low moan I slide both hands into his disheveled hair, tangling my fingers in silky curls, pulling him down to kiss him even harder. 

He growls into my mouth, his tongue slick and eager against mine; the kiss is sloppy, filthy and the most erotic kiss I've ever gotten. 

He deepens it, slowing it down, exploring my mouth, licking and then suddenly biting my lower lip, making me groan in response. 

Just as I think I'm going to faint due to the lack of oxygen, he pulls back, panting, his eyes shining in the dim light. 

"Hi," he rumbles, "I'm Benedict." 

I have to take a few breaths before I'm able to reply. 

"Hello Benedict, I'm Mia." 

"Pleasure to meet you, Mia" he says, the words rolling heavily over his tongue. The tone of those few words, drawled in that husky voice unfurls a burning longing in my stomach. 

"Likewise," I mumble, not able to say more because he's kissing me again, diving back with a force that makes my knees buckle. 

We're still moving to the music but it's become slower, more urgent. 

He's rolling his hips slowly against mine, his constant moans drowning out whatever song's playing. 

I can feel his desire, his hard-on is pressing against my thigh with every roll of his hips, rubbing maddeningly slow against my suddenly oversensitive flesh. 

Gently I mirror his motions, circling my pelvis carefully against him, biting back a smile as I feel him tremble. 

We're basically dry-humping each other, right there in front of everybody and I couldn't care less. 

Wild, plain need is blinding me for everything that's not the delicious friction of his muscular thigh that's slipped between my legs, his slightly uncoordinated kisses or the faint musky scent of his desire that slowly drives me mad.

"God, I wanna bury myself inside you as deep as possible and right now I'm just drunk enough to do it right here where everybody can see it," he murmurs between kisses, his usually well hidden lisp coming out full force. 

Pressing my face against his shoulder, into the damp fabric of his shirt, I muffle the cry of raw lust his words elicit. 

His dark voice, the seductive tone is pure sex, filling every cell of my body with a feral urge and the wish for him to just take what he wants. 

I whimper as his hands slide over my back and settle just at the swell of my arse, squeezing softly. 

He leans down and licks over the shell of my ear, groaning deeply. 

"Come with me." 

Every syllable vibrates through my body like a bell, making my entire body shake. 

He takes a step back and I almost collapse but his hand in mine gives me enough strength to follow him as he leads me towards the door away from preying eyes. 

The hallway outside is deserted and entwining his fingers with mine he drags me down the hall until he comes to a single door. 

He tries the handle and mutters triumphantly as it opens, leading into an empty office. 

Dragging me inside, he kicks the door shut before he turns his burning gaze back towards me. 

Without another word me motions me to turn; swallowing hard I oblige. 

"Shame to hide a body like this..." 

He accompanies his words with his hands, pulling down the zipper on my dress; , deliberately slow he slides his clever fingers under the straps of it, pushing them away and the fabric swishes down my body, pooling around my feet. 

I hear him groan again and feel the tip of a finger run down my back, causing goosebumps on my skin. 

"Turn," he demands and again I obey, unable to resist his dark voice. 

Standing before him half naked he pulls me into a searing kiss, his hands instantly going to the clasp of my bra. 

Clumsily I scramble for the buttons on his waistcoat but they're tiny and I make a frustrated noise. 

He laughs lowly, and the sound of it hot-wires something in my brain. I attack the bit of bare skin below his neck: the soft hollow is glistening damp and I press my nose against it, inhaling deeply, licking over the smooth skin. 

His taste explodes on my tongue, making me groan roughly. 

Cursing heavily, his head falls back, his hands suddenly in my hair, pressing me closer while I nibble and lick at the small patch of skin. 

His entire body is trembling, he's panting loudly and he cries out as I slip my hand between waistband and his stomach, needing to feel more skin. 

With a suppressed groan his hands make quick work of his button and fly, pushing trousers and pants carelessly down. 

He's pushing me against the wall and kisses me again, his tongue hard and demanding in my mouth. 

His hands are roaming over my bare skin, his fingers surprisingly gentle while his kiss is scorchingly heated.

The feeling of his still clothed torso against my bare skin is incredible and I rub my aching nipples against the fabric, moaning unabashedly against his mouth. 

"Jesus Fucking Christ," he growls, breaking the kiss. 

He's staring at me, his eyes wide and dark, his gaze stormy as it flickers over my face.

I'm too far gone to blush under his scrutiny. 

"Get this off," I demand, pawing helplessly at his remaining clothes, making him chuckle roughly. 

"Greedy woman." 

But he quickly unbuttons the waistcoat and instead of doing the same with his shirt, he just pulls it over his head, dropping everything carelessly on the floor. 

I stare. 

He's divine. 

Pale skin covers a toned chest, freckles dotting his neck and chest, the low light casting odd shadows over his beautiful body. 

I reach out for him and trail a finger from his neck to his stomach, feeling the muscles tremble at my touch. 

"Fucking gorgeous," I mumble more to myself but it makes him snicker. 

"Come here," he groans and I oblige willingly, almost throwing myself against him, searching his mouth again. 

He kisses back just as needy as I am, biting my lip, sucking at my tongue and manoeuvring us around the room until I bump against a desk. 

Without taking his lips off mine he sweeps the few utensils on it carelessly to the floor. 

His strong arms lift me easily and before I know what happens I sit on the cool surface, my legs wrapping instinctively around his waist. 

"Close your eyes," he murmurs, kissing a trail down my neck. 

I do, waiting what he's going to do next. 

Both his hands slide to my shoulders, caressing the skin there as he keeps kissing my neck, scraping his teeth over sensitive skin. 

Slowly he pushes me back, palms gliding over my breast, his fingertips lazily circling my nipples, setting every nerve on fire.  

I arch into his teasing hands, making him chuckle. 

"Lay back." 

His voice is quiet but the tone leaves no doubt that it's an order.

I've long gone past the point that I could object and do so, the cold surface against my heated skin makes me hiss. 

He's humming under his breath while his hands explore my body, tantalisingly slow slipping further down. 

My legs are still wrapped around his waist but his fingers prey them apart, spreading me open, blunt nails scratching teasingly over the inside of my thighs. 

I whimper; it's all I can do right now. My mind is addled with lust, my entire body is burning with an overwhelming desire and I have no control over the needy sounds falling from my lips. 

"Look at you," he mutters into my ear, biting the lobe, "so fucking eager, so needy for me." 

Instead of an answer, I rake my nails over his chest, groaning as he growls, a long and dangerous sound. 

Suddenly he lets go; my eyes snap open as he hectically looks around the room. 

"Don't you fucking move," he murmurs, stepping out of my view. 

I exhale, trying to calm myself down, listening to the low curses coming from him. 

A quiet 'ha' and then the plastic sound of wrapping paper. 

Another curse and a sharp hiss and then he's back, his hands around my hips, pulling my further towards him. 

"I'm going to take you like this, hard and fast until you forget your own name." 

That is all warning I get before he shoves a knee between my thighs, spreading them wide. 

I feel boneless, weak with longing. 

His grip on me however is strong and secure and without another word he's pushing inside me, his condom covered cock slipping easily between my folds. 

I scream out, the glorious feeling of him inside me renders me helpless. 

"Hands...wall..." he growls, barely waiting till I lift my arms, pressing my palms against the wall behind the desk. 

He instantly sets a punishing pace, pounding into me so deep that I see stars at every single impact. Hoarse grunts fill the room and the obscene sound of flesh against flesh, drowning out even the rush of blood in my ears. 

Everything is Benedict, his fingers digging bruisingly hard into my flesh, his hipbones hitting my inner thighs with every thrust, his rough growls loud and needy. 

The feeling of him filling me so completely is glorious and I can't control the weak thrusts, wanting to pull him even deeper. 

But I'm trapped, I can't move much, the position I'm in, flat on my back with this wild, barely controlled man pounding into me, doesn't leave me much space to do anything. 

Every thrust pushes me a bit more up, my skin catching on the smooth surface of the desk, preventing me from being bumped into the wall. 

The noises he makes, harsh groans, low gasps, choked of words are driving me insane. I can feel them, vibrating through our joint connection, rushing through my veins, and I surrender. 

I wrap my legs around his midst, my heels digging into warm flesh, almost slipping up on sweaty flesh. Only sheer will power keeps them there and I have enough leverage to arch into him, clenching my inner muscles around his rapidly moving cock. 

A long whine tumbles from his lips and he doubles his pace, curses alternate with drawn out moans and gasps for air. 

I blink my heavy lids open and almost forget to breathe altogether. 

His head is thrown back, baring his long throat, glistening with sweat, his short hair damp and curling around his forehead. 

Squinting I can see his pulse racing in the veins on his his neck, his pale chest is heaving, his narrow hips stuttering. 

He looks like personified sin, losing himself in me, forgetting everything else around him - just like he did earlier on the dance floor. 

It almost makes me laugh but another bone crushing trust has me gasp instead. 

His lids flutter open and he looks down at me, a sly smile curling his full lips. 

Dark eyes find mine, holding my gaze and I can see that he's close; I myself can feel the hot flashes sparking through my body. 

I strain my inner muscles, making him cry out in pleasure, his grip around me almost painful now. 

Suddenly heat rushes through me, I tense and have to muffle my cries as my orgasm washes over me, taking me apart and leaving me in a quivering mess beneath him, panting and eyes squeezed shut. 

A whimper pierces my ears and I blink slowly; his motions are frantic, his mouth has fallen open, his head thrown back again. 

Then he arches his back, pressing deeper inside me before a shudder wrecks through him and he collapses on top of me, panting loudly against my shoulder. 

His heart is racing; I can feel its beat against my chest and his ragged breath is warm and damp on my skin. 

We lie like that for a while, each of us trying to catch our breath before he slowly pushes himself up. He gazes down at me, soft crinkles around hazy eyes. 

He kisses me, gentle and slow. 

"That was fantastic," he says, voice raspy and quiet. 

I can only nod; my entire body feels boneless and I'm still revelling in the aftermath of a spectacular orgasm. 

He pulls out of me, making me whine at the loss, and he grins sheepishly. 

Discarding the condom into a bin, he helps me up from the desk. 

I have to lean against him when I stand; my knees are still a bit wobbly. 

As if it's the most natural thing - and right now it probably is - he wraps his arms around me, just holding me. 

I breathe in his scent, his chest warm and sweaty against my cheek, feeling rather content to stay like this for a while. 

But eventually he lets go of me and starts collecting his clothes. 

I watch him get dressed; it's almost as sexy as undressing him. 

He senses my gaze and looks up. 

"What?" 

I shake my head, smiling at him. 

"Nothing. Just... watching you put clothes on is damn hot." 

He quirks an eyebrow at me but makes a little show of buttoning up his shirt, his nimble fingers sliding slowly over the small buttons, closing them one after one. 

I resist the urge to go over and rip the shirt of his body again and instead slip into my panties, looking for my bra. 

"Looking for this?" 

Holding it out to me, he snickers, watching me now. 

"Hm, I think I know what you mean now..." he says softly, fetching my dress from the floor, holding it out to me as well. 

I blush under his sharp gaze as I step inside, pulling it up. 

"Let me..." he murmurs as I scramble for the zipper. 

He steps behind me, still radiating warmth like an oven and slowly zips up my dress. 

His fingers linger just above the fabric when he's done, caressing the bare skin just above it and I shiver at the gentle touch. 

I hear a sigh and then feel his lips, pressing a kiss against the nape of my neck. 

An awkward silence fills the room and as I glimpse over my shoulder, I see him fiddle with the seam of his waistcoat. 

"Do you..?" 

"Would you...?" 

We both speak at the same time and I can see him blush before he looks up, searching my eyes. 

"Listen, I assume you know I don't usually do...this," he waves a hand around the room, "but if you'd like... don't know, a drink or so..." 

His behaviour is adorable, he's suddenly shy and unsure, rubbing a hand over his neck and through his tousled hair. 

Chuckling quietly I close the distance between us and button up his waistcoat, the tiny buttons no longer so fiddly. 

When I'm done I look up and nod. 

"A drink would be lovely. And something to eat, I'm starving." 

Raising my hands I run them through his hair, relishing the softness of the strands between my finger, combing it until he looks presentable again. 

"Better," I say, and he smiles a breathtaking smile at me. 

"Thank you." 

I'm pretty sure he doesn't mean his hair. 

I smooth over my wrinkled dress; I'm pretty certain no-one will notice, not this time of night but still. 

Giving me a quick once-over, Benedict tucks a loose strand behind my ear and nods. 

Offering me his arm, he asks: 

"Shall we?" 

 

 


End file.
